


500 Multiverses

by whimsicality



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Leverage, Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Borderline crack, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Dimension Travel, F/M, Gen, pure silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-19 22:07:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11907165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whimsicality/pseuds/whimsicality
Summary: Lucifer has an unexpected and utterly delightful encounter with a couple of trespassers.He's their first stop, but not their last.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I asked my lovely friend Yas for a prompt this morning and this is the result. My friends are the best.
> 
> Note: Title was chosen for the pun. There are not 500 multiverses represented in this fic. Nor will there ever be.

Someone is playing his piano. 

Whoever it is has undeniable talent and Lucifer is far from averse to sharing his toys, quite the contrary. But it is seven in the morning, when naughty adults should be sleeping, not breaking into his club and playing the most complex version of "I'm Gonna Be" that he's ever heard. There are counterpoints, harmonies, and subtle insertions of minor keys that completely alter the tone of the cheerful Scottish ballad.

He stops at the top of the stairs leading into the club, clad in only his robe, and frowns down at the petite young woman sitting cross-legged on the piano bench. She has a cloud of white blonde hair, an impish smile, and something naggingly off about her presence. 

She's not alone.

There's a young man behind the bar, with the same nagging sense of wrongness, expertly mixing up a tray of colorful drinks. He has messy black hair, bright green eyes, and a distinctive scar on his forehead.

Lucifer brightens. "Oh it's you, that fictional wizard boy then? The one that had all of my Father's followers in an uproar."

The young man glances up at him and shrugs, before looking back down at the bottles of alcohol he's wielding. "Fictional in this universe maybe. Pretty sure you're fictional in mine."

"Hey now, I refuse to believe any universe would deny their worlds the beauty of my presence," Lucifer retorts, wandering down the stairs until he's on ground level. He saunters over to the piano and leans on it, grinning down at the young lady on the seat, still playing as if she hasn't noticed them at all.

"And who might you be?" he asks, with his most charming smile. It's been known to cause the immediate removal of all clothes in the vicinity but the blonde just gives him a whimsical smile.

"I might be all sorts of people. A scuba diver on a quest for vengeance against the sea sponge who stole my brother, a lost princess with no desire to be found, a crumple-horned snorkack in disguise, studying human mating rituals for my very popular zoological book series." She tilts her head to the side, eyes as clear and blue as the sky LA pretends it has. "Today, however, I'm just a girl, on vacation with a boy." 

She finishes her song with a trilling flourish before rising to her feet and giving him a dainty bow. "Thanks for the use of your piano, Mr. Morningstar." 

"Do you two often take vacations in other universes, then?" Lucifer asks, watching with bemusement as she walks over to the bar and downs the first in the row of brightly colored shots the young man has prepared. Some are actually glowing, others are giving off sparks, and at least one is still producing a humming accompaniment to the song the girl had been playing. Lucifer's bartender is a demon and he's still impressed.

"And please tell me you intend to share. I want to try that one," he says, pointing at the bright purple drink and grinning as the humming increases in volume. "You wizards must throw delightful parties. Any interest in relocating here more permanently?"

The boy grins at him, bright and sharp. "No thanks. We like our universe, despite the lingering infestation of violent racists." He waves a hand and the humming purple shot floats toward Lucifer, bobbing gently until he plucks it out of the air. 

He regards it for a moment, idly wondering if it will continue to hum in his stomach, then downs it. It tastes like mangoes, chocolate, and that bear-shaped squishy candy Trixie had shared with him last week. It also turns all of his fingernails the same shade of purple as the drink, shimmering in the low lights of the club. He laughs, delighted. "Wonderful. Are you sure I can't convince you to change careers? World saving sounds like far more work and far less fun."

The young man, Harry Plumber or something like that, lifts a glowing pink shot in his direction and then swallows it. "You have no idea," he tells Lucifer, brushing his suddenly pink hair out of his face. “But we’re onto the rebuilding now, and what fun is saving the world if you don’t get to see what it becomes after?”

Lucifer considers this point as the three of them finish the rest of the tray of drinks, even Lucifer feeling a little fuzzy around the edges by the last one. His nails are now multicolored and his robe has been replaced with a luxurious fur coat in garish orange. "Heliopath," Luna tells him. "It wards off nightmares."

"Fascinating," Lucifer says as he pets it, referring to the fur and his unexpected guests. Maybe he should take up universe hopping. _That_ would piss Father off.

Harry cleans up the bar with a few waves of his hand and then hops over it wrap his arm around Luna's waist, dropping a kiss on her glitter covered cheek with lips a vibrant ruby red that would have put the fruit on the tree of life to shame. "Thank you for your hospitality, but we must be off. Other universes to see."

Luna winks at him. "We'll make sure to check for other versions of you from now on. Maybe we can organize a convention."

"Oh you must report back then, and you," Lucifer says, pointing at Harry. "Must meet Maze. I think the two of you together could get Amenadiel drunk and he’s the very definition of stick in the mud. Or at least stick up the ass."

Both of his guests grin, that sense of wrongness spiking as the air in the bar starts to crackle. “We’ll see each other again, I can almost guarantee it,” Harry promises. The crackle intensifies, the air shimmering around them, and then with a loud pop they’re gone, leaving a shower of iridescent confetti in the air that dances around him.

Maze chooses that moment to walk in and raises an eyebrow as Lucifer scoops some confetti out of the air, laughing as it zaps his palm. “Hey Mazey, what do you know about dimensional travel?”


	2. Hey Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I meant what I said about there not being 500 multiverses. But I was inspired to write at least one more, and others may follow.
> 
> Title for this chapter comes from the excellent song by Matt and Kim. If you've never heard it, do yourself a favor and find it on youtube or spotify or what have you. It's delightful.

The rooftop of a skyscraper wasn't the strangest place they'd popped into on their jaunt through dimensions, but they'd never interrupted what was clearly a heist before.

There's a pale, blonde woman in a harness, holding a rope and staring at them with wide blue eyes, and a short, slightly less pale, muscular man scowling at them with clenched fists that have Harry's fingers tightening on his wand.

Luna claps her hands. "Oooh, are you thieves? Are you stealing _The Scream_? Does this universe have one? Hermione says it gets stolen a lot in our world, but she wouldn’t let me steal it to find out if it was haunted."

There's heavy silence for a long moment and then the short one twitches as if something bit him in the ear. "Yes, I see them, Hardison, I'm not blind."

"How did you do that?" the woman asks, her voice sharp. "You weren't there and then you were."

"Magic," Harry says, and the man scoffs. Harry grins at him, tapping an idle finger against Luna's palm. "I'd be happy to provide a demonstration if you promise not to get violent. We're done with violence, so if that's your thing we'll just take our leave."

The man's scowl doesn't change at all, but the blonde woman grabs his arm and grins at them with vibrant intensity. "Eliot promises not to punch. I want to see more magic!"

Before Harry can oblige, a shrill alarm begins to blare and the man apparently named Eliot starts to swear viciously, then shoots them a nasty look. "Well your first little magic trick tripped the alarms, so thanks for that."

"I'm so sorry we interrupted your criminal enterprise with our universe hopping," Harry says dryly. 

"Hey, this isn't a criminal enterprise!" the woman protests. "I mean, well, we're criminals. Really good criminals," she adds with a smirk that reminds Harry inescapably of Fred and George. "But we're also the good guys."

"I like her," Luna declares. "We should help them. Hermione can't stop me from stealing things if she's not here."

“What are you trying to do?” Harry asks. The word cautious has never been a good fit for him, but he likes to think he’s gotten at least a _little_ less reckless since surviving the war. Well, technically surviving. He did die, just a wee bit. Point being, as much as he loves Luna and wants to make her happy, he’s not necessarily on board with diving into a “not” criminal enterprise with two self-professed criminals.

Although he is willing to help with at least one thing. Loud noises that aren’t cheering Quidditch crowds are one of his least favorite things, so he flicks his wand up and to the left, silencing the alarm still blaring across the rooftop.

The blonde woman laughs delightedly. “Do something else.”

Eliot’s scowl has deepened, again, and he’s staring at Harry’s wand with clear suspicion. “How do we know you’re not part of building security? Or here for your own job with some fancy toys?”

Harry glances down at the Elder Wand, amused at the notion of it being a fancy toy. A toy that doesn’t like to be owned. There’s a reason he only uses it for dimensional travel and sticks to _his_ wand for everything else.

“Do we look like building security?” he asks, genuinely curious as he examines himself. His sense of style has increased with age and access to all of his accounts, along with greater knowledge of magic and how easy it is to alter outfits to suit whatever world they find themselves on. He’s wearing dark, fitted jeans, a black suit shirt with matching black vest, and a hip length, dark green tweed overcoat that compliments the green of his eyes and the warm brown of his skin. 

Luna has thoroughly embraced modern muggle fashion, at least what’s prevalent on their Earth, with her own special twist. She’s wearing a short, flouncy skirt with different colored whales on it, bright blue tights, and low heeled ankle high boots. Her shirt says ‘Snorkacks are real and one ate all my left socks’ with one of Harry’s jackets over it, hanging down almost as long as her skirt. Dangling from her ears are a pair of pink pygmy puffs, a gift from Ginny, charmed to remain still and silent when in the presence of muggles.

“Undercover security,” Eliot grates out and Luna laughs, a soft, warm sound that never fails to make Harry smile. 

“I bet we’ve broken more laws than you,” she says with an impish grin. “Harry was the most wanted criminal in Magical Britain for almost a year.”

“And no,” Harry says, before Eliot can repeat his second accusation. “We’re not here for our own crime. I have no idea what this building is or what’s in it.”

“Bad men, and computers with lots of money in them,” the blonde woman says promptly, then rolls her eyes at a voice Harry can’t hear. “Yes I know, Hardison, it’s not actually money inside of them. But it _means_ money.”

“Who’s Hardison?” Luna asks. “Is he invisible? Or a ghost? Or a tiny man who lives in your ear?”

Eliot cracks his first smile. "A tiny man who lives in our ears, sounds about right to me." He winces again and Harry grins, assuming they’re using earpieces and that said Hardison is giving them a haranguing over that description.

“So what exactly can we do to help?” Harry asks. “In the spirit of peace and granting the wish for magic.”

The blonde woman gives him a look of gleeful anticipation and Harry makes a mental note to _never_ bring the twins to this universe. Or any universe, really. He loves them but their brand of chaos is best confined to the wizarding world. 

Eliot’s scowl is more analytical than irritated now and Harry bears it calmly, reminded strongly of McGonagall. “Parker and I can handle the actual theft if you can keep security off us.” He smirks, eyes glinting in clear challenge. “Show us what you’ve got.”

Luna laughs again and Harry winks at the man. He doesn’t get near enough chances to show off his skills these days, not without all the baggage of being the two time savior of the wizarding world in the way. And Luna has a gift for subtle magic that he knows the twins still curse themselves for not discovering and exploiting while at Hogwarts.

This is going to be fun.

Harry and Luna enter the building first, once directed to the roof access hatch Eliot and Parker planned to use. Luna moves like she’s dancing, grace and whimsy in every line as she puts guards to sleep with a flick of her wand and shorts out cameras with shimmering butterflies formed of pure electricity. Harry is brute force efficiency, jabbing his wand at guards and security systems alike. He doesn’t need words, silent spells the only thing he can thank the dead potions master for, other than permanently removing himself from Harry’s life. 

They’re both waiting in the server room, Harry leaning against a wall and watching the door while Luna carefully plays with one of her butterflies, when Eliot and Parker join them. Parker’s grinning so wide Harry is convinced her cheeks must hurt and Eliot looks like he’s trying very hard to maintain an unimpressed scowl. Harry bows with a flourish and Luna directs her last pet in a delicate ballet around them as Parker laughs delightedly.

Eliot grunts, assuming a watchful position much like Harry’s as Parker moves to a terminal and starts typing commands, presumably under the instruction of the tiny man in her ear. “Well you’re certainly useful.”

“I enjoy criminal shenanigans!” Luna says, letting her butterfly disperse into the air in a shower of bright sparks and wrapping herself around one of Harry’s arms. “We should do it more often.”

Harry drops a kiss on her hair, hiding his smile from the other man. “I’m not sure the multiverse is ready for the Lovegood-Potter heist crew.”

“That sounds like the multiverse’s problem, not ours,” Luna points out sensibly. Harry doesn’t bother hiding his grin this time and for a brief moment Eliot returns it, a shared appreciation for their enthusiastic partners.

“Well, if we ever find anything you really want to steal, that won’t hurt anyone to lose, we can plot our own heist,” Harry promises her. “In the meantime,” he continues, still looking at Eliot, whose smile has faded into a thoughtful frown. “Anything fun to do here before we pop onto our next world?”

“Are you old enough to drink?” Eliot asked after a moment, raising an eyebrow as he flicked a judgmental gaze over them.

Luna laughed into Harry’s shoulder and Harry bared his teeth in a parody of his earlier grin. “Yes. And I guarantee we can drink you under the table.” He was pretty sure they were below the legal age for the muggle world, if this Earth was anything like theirs, but their ID’s were charmed to show whatever the other person needed to see in a given situation. Hermione really was the most talented witch of her age. Or any age, probably.

“I like being over things more than under things,” Parker said, making Eliot choke. “But it is traditional to celebrate a successful mission with a trip to the bar.” She grins at Harry and Luna. “Besides, I want to see Hardison’s face when you do more magic.”

“Drinking is an excellent way to make that happen,” Harry admits, privately wondering if this Earth has a wizarding world that’s going to send someone after them for blatant use of magic in front of muggles.

On this he agrees completely with Luna, Hermione can never know about this particular trip.

“So,” he asks Eliot, as they follow Luna and Parker out of the room, “does your world have a Satan type? Asking for a friend.”


End file.
